


White Stuff

by WinchesterInTheTardis



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Cigarettes, Dixoncest, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Forced Drug Use, Incest, M/M, Marijuana, Needles, Racist Language, Sexist Language, Sibling Incest, The Walking Dead AU, Underage Sex, alternate universe kinda, drug addicted Daryl, morphine use, self victim blame, sort of prostitution, substance withdrawl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2834522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterInTheTardis/pseuds/WinchesterInTheTardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merle's drugging Daryl to abuse him has gotten the teen addicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMutantHonk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMutantHonk/gifts), [theanatomyofpoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theanatomyofpoe/gifts).



> First of all I want to say I'm sorry for this. The idea popped up and I decided to write it. Also Dixoncest. There needs to be more. 
> 
> This is my first Walking Dead fic, so yay. I really don't have anything else to say about the matter other than I really hope you enjoy it. This is unbeta'd so any mistake is my own.
> 
> Actions and opinions of characters in this story do not reflect my own. Please if you are uncomfortable with any of the tags I don't suggest reading.

It didn't take many tries to get Daryl Dixon addicted. All it took was a few times of Merle forcefully drugging him so he could spend a little ‘quality time’ with him and he was hooked. Now, there he was, fidgeting and biting the skin on the end of his thumb as he waited around outside his big brother’s room. He knew Merle had a stash in there. He’d seen it a hand full of times when he was just hanging around before he’d kicked him out. Really, Daryl was never allowed in Merle’s room, especially not when Merle wasn't home.

He finally got up the gumption to knock. His knuckles connected with the wood in two short raps and the door swung open, smoke and the stench of cigarettes and weed billowing out. Daryl winced when he took a hit of the smoke to the eye and he reached up, rubbing at it with the heel of his palm as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Wha’d’ya want?” Merle’s blue eyes were a bit hazy. Glazed over and red. Daryl would've had to stifle a little laughter if he wasn’t so cold and itchy feeling. Through his haze Merle noticed something was wrong and ushered the thin brunet teen into his room, shutting the door behind them.

Merle’s room was full of mismatched shit. His windows were covered with dark colored blankets stapled to the yellowed walls and his ceiling fan shook in a rhythm where it never missed a beat. Daryl watched it as he stepped over several empty beer cans and flopped down onto the end of Merle’s bed unceremoniously. His eyes followed Merle’s movements over to his closet, which he opened and dug through the corner of before he pulled out a huge bag full of rattling pill bottles and little glass jars with the kind of lid you’d find in a hospital. Big enough to insert the needle of a syringe and draw some out.

And that was what Merle had been using on him. Wrestling him down into submission and plunging a needle into his arm or hip unnecessarily hard.

But thinking about it had Daryl twitching, biting at the skin on his thumb again and wrapping his other arm around his waist as he blinked up at his big brother, watching him digging in the bag to grab the clear liquid in the jar. He felt goose bumps pimpling his skin in excitement and he let his hand fall, biting his bottom lip instead of his thumb once again as Merle got the needle. “This what you want princess?” His voice had gotten gruffer than it was earlier and Daryl knew what that meant. Still, he nodded and pushed a hand through his messy, shaggy, dark brown hair as he stared up at him. “Know ya gotta trade fer it.”

Slowly Daryl nodded again. “Yeah.” His voice came out sounding much more confident and stable than he felt but he went with it, sliding his worn out jacket down his shoulders and reaching down to start peeling his t-shirt off.

When the needle pricked the skin of Daryl’s pale and freckled upper arm and Merle pushed down the plunger that was all she wrote.

-

Once Daryl’s mind was unfogged enough for him to think straight he noticed the taste in his mouth and the dry sticky substance on the corner of his mouth and his chin. He wiped at it, coming off in crusty flakes under his fingernails. He frowned and took the side of his fist, scrubbing it off and wiping his hand on his sheets.

The last thing he remembered was Merle having his rough fingers buried in his hair, his dirty nails digging into his scalp so he could jerk his head around, back and forth, his lips wrapped around his brother’s dick after he’d practically stuffed it into his mouth. Merle was always rough, nearly choked him by forcing his head down too far too quick.

The teen’s stomach churned at the memory and he rolled onto his side, bringing his knees up where he wrapped his skinny arms around them. It was chilly in his room – or at least, he was cold. He uncurled briefly to grab the blanket at the bottom of his bed and he yanked it up over his naked form, resuming his position with half his face hidden in his pillow. He felt sweaty despite the cold chills he swore were running all over his body and he would kill for a Coke. His mouth felt real dry and a Sprite sounded nice at the moment.

But he wasn’t looking forward to getting up and putting on clothes and stepping out of his room. Plus he felt too lazy to even roll out of bed at that point. He cracked his eyes open and looked at his window, only then noticing the water in his vision and realizing he’d been crying silently. He scowled, reaching up and wiping at his eyes. He shouldn’t have been crying. Merle would’ve told him to act like a man and suck it up.

He knew what making a trade with Merle entailed. They’d made an exchange before.

At this point Daryl was getting upset with himself. He hadn’t really had reason to think about sex before he’d done something to make Merle look at him in a sexual way. He’d wracked his brain, trying to think about what he could’ve possibly done but nothing came to mind. Still the teen blamed himself. If he would’ve done something different, he thought, maybe Merle wouldn’t have started drugging him and… he shook his head to himself as he mopped up his tears with his blanket.

Merle had just made a mistake, he insisted to himself, and he forgave his brother. Merle was the only kin he had now that their dad was dead. His only kin and he loved him. He had to love him. It was the right thing to do, no matter what.

 

-

 

The sound of skin slapping hard filled the nasty old trailer and mingled with loud, deep grunts and quiet gasps accompanied by silent tears.

Merle never left the house without his bag of 'goodies', and tonight was no exception. Daryl had tossed himself back and forth, all over the damn house trying to get those jitters out of his veins until finally he gave in and picked up the scratched up green cord phone and dialed the number of every one of Merle's friends until he'd found someone to accept his offer.

His usual deal.

Sex for a fix.

"You really are good at this aren't ya sweetheart?" Daryl grimaced at the voice behind him that carried the worst drawl he'd ever heard. He wasn't doing a damn thing but staying still with his ass up in the air and his fingers clawing at the mauve carpet. The guy was undoubtedly already high on something. He should've known as much when he'd started without any lube and Daryl'd had to sit up and shout at him, making the ugly hillbilly go dig under the sink until he found an old bottle of baby oil.

He wasn't about to go into Merle's room and there was nothing else in the house.

It wasn't doing so great but he wasn't about to spoil his chances at some kind of 'payment'. He kept his mouth shut and held in his sobs, letting the tears flow but never letting on that he was crying. As far as the man on top of him knew, Daryl was whimpering in pleasure.

The stupid redneck was grunting louder now, his hands searching all over Daryl's body until he found his greasy hair and grabbing onto it, jerking his head back and making the teen cry out. His stomach felt so messed up like he was going to throw up at any time now but the feeling of nausea only increased as he heard a strangely final grunt from the gorilla-like man and felt his hips thrust forward, feeling himself fill up. He felt dizzy and kept his eyes shut tight as Merle's friend let go of his hair, his head thudding back down onto the carpeted floor. It stung and would undoubtedly leave carpet burn.

"Wait," Daryl managed to croak out as he half sat up and stuck his hand out, grabbing at the man who was just out of reach with glassy eyes. "Y-you owe me," he whispered, voice hoarse. He wanted to do nothing more than curl up and get warm. He was so cold – so jittery. The man laughed and then it was silent prior to the sound of footsteps approaching. Daryl was starting to push himself up from the floor with shaking hands, his ass just happening to be poked up in the air when the needle was plunged right into the supple flesh, tearing a scream out of the brunet’s already-scratchy throat.

His fingers curled up in the stinking carpet as he landed face first on it again, trying to will himself to move. Pull the needle out, pull his pants up, chase after the asshole who had left the front door ajar right behind Daryl’s chilly, naked form. But he was exhausted. He was already feeling tired, itchy, and shaky, from his lack of use, and his trade with Merle’s friend was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  
  
He lay there dazed as the drug kicked in as he laughed quietly to himself, his eyes focusing on a cockroach that was making its way across the living room floor. Heat ignited in his veins as he squirmed around on the floor, his shirt riding up to reveal old scars from when their old man was alive. Maybe he was to blame him for his new found addiction. Seemed his existence didn’t effect Merle’s use any. He got high when he was alive just as much as he did now that he’d kicked it

But Daryl’s head was in a far away place from all of that. He wasn’t in that old filthy trailer squirming around on the floor, stewing in his own sweat and dripping some guy’s spunk out of his ass. Nothing that was real mattered.

Wasn’t long before the rumble of Merle’s truck could be heard outside – to anyone who wasn’t Daryl. The truck door slammed closed hard, rattling the whole piece-of-shit thing behind Merle as he walked up the walkway that led to a shitty wooden porch which was covered with garbage bags and scrap metal. The grass grew up between cracks in the walk way and Merle stomped on them vowing to himself he was gonna get out there with some weed killer one of these days.

He flicked his cigarette into the yard before he stepped in the door. “What the fuck’s goin’ on in here little brother? You invitin’ every coon in the county to come an steal from us?” But he shut up real quick when his eyes fell on Daryl laying there, now moaning and squirming around.

A quiet ‘fuck’ slipped out of Merle’s mouth and he dropped the case of beer he’d been carrying on the couch. He could see the drying yellow-white stains on Daryl’s black pants and he could see the liquid leaking out of him. Could see how red his entire ass was and he could see clearly the syringe sticking out of him like some kinda meat thermometer. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together.

Merle settled in the floor on his knees and pulled out the syringe, tossing it to the other side of the room before he started moving Daryl. He pulled his pants up carefully and maneuvered the teenager into his lap, checking his glazed over eyes. “This is some mess you got yerself into Darlene,” he mumbled as he stood, Daryl completely dead weight on him as he half carried half drug him through the trailer to his bedroom door.

He opened the door with his elbow and ended up pretty much slinging Daryl down onto his mattress. His calloused hands pulled his pants and boxers off, searching through a pile of clothes at the foot of his bed until he found a pair that passed the sniff test. He somehow managed to get them on before he rolled Daryl onto his side, using pillows behind him to keep him propped up. Merle stood and admired his work before he added a blanket over him. That looked good enough. He stepped over to the door and shook his head, thinking about having a beer and a smoke. “Gotta have a talk tom’arra,” Merle grunted, shaking his head as he closed the bedroom door.


End file.
